OPEN BAR POST

[the_cupbearer]

The bar is open!

Anyone is welcome at 4713, and the bartenders are happy to carry on a conversation for anyone that needs company to drink with. Tiqua--the lead bartender when Ganymede's not there, and the shift manager when he is--says she makes the best Black Velvet ever...blackberry imperial stout and champagne, that is. Ganymede is more than likely there too, just look for the smiling man with long hair braided back, but there's plenty of booths and tables as well, just be careful of you you sit with. They might not always be strangers.


[ this is an open post! feel free to drop off notes or things, or just hop in to talk to Ganymede if you want ]

Comments

ahahaha this is gonna be GLORIOUS

[the_cupbearer]

It...very definitely is weird.

Ganymede, freckled and dark-eyed and with his long hair braided back in a thick half-plait, had been coming around the corner from the back room with another bottle of syrup; he stops dead-still when he sees what could very well be his own self sauntering up and leaning on the bar. It's easy to tell when everyone else has seen him too--half the employees stop what they're doing, blinking as if they need to be sure of what they're wtinessing.

"...What can I get you?" he asks, very belatedly.

[midnightroads]

Bash glances up at Ganymede, and his eyes lock in a distinct stare, mouth hanging open in clear confusion and awe. Right, that's a thing, isn't it? I mean, really a thing.

But. But, there was a question asked, and he oughta answer it. "Cuppa coffee?"

Because he's that kind of jackass, at a bar but doesn't drink. But come the end of the night, he'll play designated driver and ferry the lost souls of the bar to their final destination--or at least, where they'll crash for the night. That's part of his job, too, almost as much as ferrying the dead lost souls to their final destination.

[the_cupbearer]

"Sure," he answers after a second, though he has to get the coffee packs one of his staff makes to actually do it. But he isn't moving yet, still staring at Bash, well...unabashedly.

"I'm not hallucinating, am I?" he asks eventually. "You look...almost exactly like me."


...What is this.

[midnightroads]

"Aw, naw, cuz. You look like me. Clearly." Their accents differ, though. Bash speaks like New Orleans, and not the nice parts of it. Lazy, almost, words melted by the heat of a Southern summer sun.

[the_cupbearer]

"Do I? I think of the two of us, you might be the younger," he managed as the coffee was brewing. Ganymede's own voice was almost unplaceable, accented from everywhere and anywhere, touches of England and the Middle East and south Asia, and everywhere else.

"I'm Ben, I own the bar. And you?"

[midnightroads]

"I'm Bash. I visit the bar. At least, if this isn't too fuckin' weird for you to accept." It might be, he knows it might be. His own measure for weird was blown way out of calibration the first time he met his father, and things haven't normalized since then.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede chuckled. "It's not the strangest thing I've seen, beieve it or not. I've never encountered someone who looks so much like I do."

And hey, as long as he pays up and isn't mean to the staff...what more could he really ask for? "Is Bash short for something?"

[midnightroads]

"Ah, yeah. Sebastian. Didn't fit me all too good. It's stuffier than I am--even my ma only uses it when I'm in trouble these days."

His smile comes warm and easy, even when his words are tinged with self-mockery.

[the_cupbearer]

"I can't say my mother called me Ben, either," he replied--mostly because it hadn't been his name, and the queen wouldn't have been inclined to call him any shortened form anyway. "Properly, it's Benjamin Prince, but nobody really calls me that." He poured the coffee into a mug, though printed on the side of it was the significantly illustrative phrase in my defense, I was left unsupervised.

"So what brings you to this end of New York, Bash? Work, pleasure, something in-between?"

[midnightroads]

There's a snort of amusement at the words on the mug, certainly not a complaint (though Bash is very well-supervised here, isn't he?). He pauses a second at the question, though. Oh, full answers are out of the question. But not all honest ones are.

"Ah, here for some family business, I guess. Might be a bit of a while, though."

[the_cupbearer]

"Then you might need to come back sooner rather than later," Ganymede answered, amused as he rolled a stainless tumbler end over end between his hands absently. "For the record, I do have stronger drinks than coffee if you end up needing them after your family business."

[midnightroads]

“I mean, it’s a bar, I figured you would. I don’t drink, though.” He’s here for the company and atmosphere more than the influence of alcohol on his person. “And I figure that’s probably the definitive proof we aren’t the same person, huh?”

[the_cupbearer]

"Now, I don't mind that at all. I have tea and coffee, sometimes fruity water too. Not everyone comes here just to drink," Ganymede chuckles, though he has to laugh and nod at the question.

"Better proof than almost anything else, yeah. I drink like a fish."

[midnightroads]

“I’d take coffee over most anything. I can be snobbish about it sometimes, but you got a decent bean here. Ethiopian?”

Okay, more a nerd than a snob if he’s honest, but Bash feels weird calling himself a nerd, considering he isn’t very smart in general.

[the_cupbearer]

"Sumatra, you were close," Ganymede chuckles. "It's got a whole spice cabinet in it, according to my staff. Everyone but Queenie says it's too fancy."

[midnightroads]

“Your staff is absolutely wrong, and I’ll pester you guys for a dirty chai latte with this shit someday.”

He laughs, and then his gaze catches on Ganymede again, his mirror image in a way he still doesn’t understand. Lost member of the family? He hopes not... “What do you prefer to drink, Ben?”

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede would hope not as well, because the last thing he wants is for anyone else's family to have the same problem with gods interfering in their lives. "You'll have to ask Queenie for it, she and I are the only ones who drink enough coffee to know what that is. James drinks it a little, but not as much." He points out each of the staff members, getting a short wave or headnod.

"Me? A sazerac, personally. I like it a little rich and smooth."

[midnightroads]

Bash memorizes the names, flashing Queenie a warm, mildly flirty smile. Like, she's on the clock, he's not going to turn on his full charm while someone's working. But it's still there at a low simmer.

"Sazarac, sounds fancy."

[the_cupbearer]

"It's not particularly. Rye, bitters, sugar and absinthe. One day you'll see me drinking one while I'm back here, I'm sure."

Not tonight, because tonight he's sticking with the coffee, but he does like them quite a lot. More than he likes most others, anyway.

[midnightroads]

“One day. Because I’ll be back regularly, hm?” There’s some soft tease in there. “How late are you open? I do a lot of work overnight.”

[the_cupbearer]

"Well I hope so," he chuckles. "We're open until 4 most nights, but only 2 on Sundays. We're closed Mondays, because everyone needs a day off."

His staff included.

[midnightroads]

"Totally agree everyone needs a day off. But 'til 4, that's going to be good for me. I'm almost always out past two."

Because you can't just go picking up ghosts during the day; it's against a rule or something.

[the_cupbearer]

"That's a tough work schedule," Ganymede comments. "Mind if I ask what you do?"

[midnightroads]

"I drive for Uber."

Which isn't a lie, he does drive. But. That's not the Thing He's Doing Here. He looks sort of sheepish about it.

[the_cupbearer]

"Ahhh, the modern cab driver. I know a few of those, and it's not a job I could do."